The Regressed Princess - Chapter 64

Chapter 64: Just Like a Fairy Tale—Is She… Actually Perfect?

The sound of bells jingled as Scar-Eye respectfully presented a carriage and two prize horses, seeing the group off on their return journey.

Andra tossed the reins of the bay horse to Manzhu and stepped onto the carriage with practiced composure.

As she opened the carriage door, she glanced back, feeling as though she saw the flickering figures of Coral and several slaves disappearing into the crowd.

Forget it; Eleanor is safe, so those people can be wherever they like.

Entering the carriage, she sat down beside the Princess and asked with a hint of curiosity, “Your Highness, how did you convince her?”

Persuading Scar-Eye wasn’t difficult; anyone in that situation could have driven a hard bargain. But Andra had watched closely from the side: the moment Eleanor produced that parchment scroll, Scar-Eye had fallen into a solemn silence for a brief moment before her face blossomed into a radiant smile.

She had beamed after hearing only a few sentences of explanation from the little Princess… which meant the parchment must have contained information capable of bringing immediate, massive profit and it had to be simple to understand.

Andra could guess at similar types of information, such as mines or other resources.

Gold or silver mines were out of the question; once discovered, such veins were strictly controlled by kings, great lords, and the Church. Within the borders of Nolanna, it was more likely to be an iron or copper mine, or perhaps a valley containing high-quality stone.

But such valuable things couldn’t possibly belong to a ten-year-old Princess. Furthermore, who would be willing to share a mine with a merchant? The two of them together wouldn’t be able to protect it. If Scar-Eye dared to mine secretly behind the King of Nolanna’s back, she’d be hanging from the city gates by the next morning.

Andra had pondered this for a long while below, and once inside the carriage, she stared at Eleanor with inquisitive eyes, hoping the little Princess would solve the mystery for her.

Eleanor took a sip of tea, set the cup down, and said, “I discussed some simple commercial cooperation with her—things like jointly developing trade guilds and routes, providing her with certain blueprints, and ways to circumvent some taxes.”

“I see.” Andra nodded impassively, though she felt a slight pang in her heart: she could tell this was an evasion.

When she had first boarded the carriage and saw the Princess, she distinctly felt that the two of them should have been more intimate. She had spoken without thinking, and an image had even surfaced in her mind of Eleanor leaning against her, excitedly gesturing about something.

Was that a hallucination?

Andra glanced at Eleanor, who was resting her eyes against the back of the seat, and let out a quiet breath.

It must have been a hallucination. The little Princess had only known her for a short while; naturally, there wouldn’t be such deep feelings yet.

The youth curled her lips into a smile, thinking with a touch of amusement: Perhaps in the Princess’s heart, I am just a Hetuyan who resembles Messara, someone who likes swordplay and riding horses?

But it didn’t matter. She would let Eleanor see her clever side, and then.

Rustle, rustle.

More visions peeled away from the space, manifesting before Andra’s eyes.

She seemed to see a brilliant young woman meticulously organizing snow-white “papyrus” on a table, picking up a pen to draw symbols and characters she didn’t recognize.

That was Eleanor.

Andra cast her gaze upon the face of the person who could be described as “Sister Eleanor.” This graceful young woman’s eyes sparkled with light as she turned toward her and said cheerfully, “Andra…”

What is she saying?

Andra squinted, trying to move closer to this phantom—

Bang!

A great force struck her head, and Andra clutched her forehead, silently falling back into her seat.

“Hahaha.”

Eleanor laughed softly and handed her a handkerchief from her waist. “Andra, you seem a bit distracted today?”

The little Princess’s tone was gentle. Andra’s cheeks flushed as she explained earnestly, “It might be because of a dream I had last night.”

The words were an excuse; she didn’t want the Princess to think she was bored during their “date.”

But Eleanor’s laughter stopped abruptly. She turned her head and stared, unblinking.

“A dream? What kind of dream did you have last night?”

Hmm, I need to think this through.

Andra put on an expression of careful recollection, waiting a few seconds before saying slowly, “I can’t remember it very clearly. I saw you at a table arranging some very white, very smooth papyrus, talking to me with a smile.”

She summarized the vision she just had and added a bit of “spice” to the story: “And then you—”

“Then what?” Eleanor leaned forward, drawing closer to her within the warm carriage.

The focused gaze of the little Princess made Andra curl her lips in pleasure.

“Oh, people only care about the ones they like.”

The old nannies on the plains used to laugh and say to her, “Oh, my little Princess, you are so beautiful; many girls will fall for you in the future.”

Back then, she was tiny. She had put her hands on her hips and shouted, “I don’t want ‘many’ girls so many people would be annoying! I only want the noblest, most beautiful, smartest, gentlest one who loves me the most!”

“Hahahahaha!”

“Hohoho, you might as well wish for several instead!”

Andra could now understand why the nannies had laughed so exaggeratedly. Such a string of wishes would make even the Great Mother Goddess recoil in shock.

In truth, before she met Eleanor… no, after growing up a couple of years, she had felt a bit sheepish. One must have self-knowledge. She had never met a girl who was perfect in a thousand ways; she hadn’t even seen someone who was “ten-parts good and nine-parts beautiful.” She was only flesh and blood; why should the Mother Goddess lift a god-like lover from the river of blood for her?

But perhaps a girl who was perfect in every way truly existed.

Andra looked at Eleanor, who was resting her head on her hand, a soft joy stirring in her heart.

She didn’t know Eleanor well enough yet. At their first meeting, she confirmed her beauty; at their second, she confirmed her gentleness. This little Princess was of noble birth, yet she maintained a kindness for everyone beneath her status.

Her attitude toward swordsmanship was naive, yet that naivety was also a form of persistence; Eleanor clearly didn’t need to practice hard, but she hadn’t slackened during these days.

As for intelligence Andra had heard of the little Princess’s brilliance from many people.

Before, she lacked a sense of its reality, but today a corner had been lifted: someone who wasn’t smart enough could never have made a merchant who suffered massive losses bloom with a smile just by using a scroll of parchment.

Is she… actually perfect?

Andra gazed into Eleanor’s amber eyes, and a blurred emotion suddenly took hold.

I hope she can belong to me.

“Little Princess, one cannot be too greedy.”

In her memory, a nanny sat on a grass mat, slowly recounting an ancient legend.

The most ancient King of humanity, the Sun King of the Golden Age, called herself the Sun. She conquered all the tribes in the world at that time and then challenged Yang, the eldest daughter of Gaia.

She pointed at the sky and mocked the Sun: “All your power stems from the Mother Goddess. If you descend from the heavens and cast aside the boundless divine power granted by the Mother, you will find that gods are even frailer than humans you shall submit to me!”

Yang was stunned into silence by the King’s arrogance for six breaths.

Then, the Sun fell from the sky. It shed its divine fire and flames, transforming into a tiny infant. The infant rolled across the earth, aging one year with every roll. Red magma erupted from the ground, becoming what would later be the Great Volcanoes and the Valley of Silence.

After eighteen rolls, Yang grew into a graceful young woman.

She looked at the Sun King holding a long blade and reached her hand toward the sky. Her sister Anara blew a wild wind; her sister Phylia sent a branch. The wind sharpened the branch into a piercing spearhead, and the sturdy spear fell into Yang’s hand.

The young woman balanced the weapon born of nature and nodded slightly toward the King of Humans.

And the Sun King faced the girl without a trace of fear, raising an iron blade tempered a thousand times.

Andra knew the ending of the story. It was a chapter of war and poetry, blood and fire, life and death. The gods witnessed the end of the Son of Man… and the future.

The romantic myths and the fires of the past receded together.

She looked at Eleanor’s cheek beside her and couldn’t help but empathize with the Sun King’s fanatical sentiment: I hope that beautiful thing could forever belong to me.

Whether it be the sun, the moon, the stars… or you.

“I dreamed of what happened next…”

She turned her body, facing the girl who was as ethereal as a crescent moon, and whispered, “You embraced me.”

Andra softened her voice. She saw the emotion on the young girl’s face.

Eleanor believed her.

Every detail of her expression showed that she completely believed these confessions, which were filled with Andra’s private desires.

The youth’s heart pounded. What could be more joyful than being certain that the person you like also likes you back?

She narrowed her eyes and slowly leaned forward, her ruby lips gently approaching the little Princess’s soft mouth.

How fast this is; they’ve known each other for less than a month. How slow this is; they’ve already spent so many days together.

The poems of the God of Love flickered through Andra’s mind. She had once bet with her playmates that the legends of the Love God were all fabrications—how could a God of Love descending to the mortal realm fall in love so quickly? He was a high and mighty deity; how could he be captivated by a girl’s shy smile and a single flower?

But looking at the approaching lips—she believed it now. Love simply doesn’t listen to reason.

In the second before their lips touched, Andra even had the illusion of bypassing countless years. It was as if, in a single breath, she would leap forward several years, a decade, several decades, and stand upon a high city wall with her beloved Angel, spending a beautiful night with their subjects.

Soft contact.

The sensation on her lips was not that of another’s mouth. Andra couldn’t help but open her eyes.

At the very last second, the little Princess had shyly turned her face away, and the kiss had landed, by a hair’s breadth, on her soft cheek.

“Honestly…” Eleanor grumbled softly, shrinking back into the corner, her face flushed crimson.

Andra did not press further. She straightened up in a great mood: the fact that the Princess hadn’t shouted for Manzhu and Jīngjí (Bramble) to come over was itself a form of “yielding refusal.”

“I’m sorry.” She bit her lip, her eyes and brows overflowing with a smile.

The little Princess leaned against the carriage in silence, saying nothing for several minutes. Andra leaned obediently beside her, both hands on her knees, not daring to move.

If she had known the little Princess for many years, she would have invaded Her Highness’s domain with the most assertive posture, never hesitating over a kiss.

But for now… Andra stole a glance at the little girl beside her, who still looked quite childlike, and felt her own face turn red.

Clatter, clatter.

The carriage drove through the streets in their quiet waiting, entering the Royal City and heading down a somewhat unfamiliar road.

Andra glanced out the window and realized this wasn’t the way back to the living quarters. She turned her head in surprise and asked, “Your Highness, are you planning to take a different way back today?”

Eleanor shook her head. Her complexion had returned to normal, the fiery flush having completely faded.

The little Princess’s tone was slightly distant: “No. I am going to see my mother.”

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